


7 Tablespoons

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Biting, Cumshot, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:47:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A contemplation on life, love, and relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	7 Tablespoons

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt[s]: http://voxalcafe.livejournal.com/2822.html Used the picture to write a fic.  
> Beta Readers: kawaiikyo, rapturouspurple  
> Song[s]: Tour08 The Rose Trims Again Disc 3 by Dir en grey

Low light... a table glossed in a pale circle of light, done up in matte. My hands rest, steepled over the surface, flecks of salt dusting the blackness like little white stars in the two am sky. My eyes focus on the salt, examining the structure of each crystal as I sit there, waiting. I don't blink, just as I haven't for the past ten minutes or so. It doesn't matter that my eyes are drying out. In fact, in the vast aspect of it all, nothing matters in the slightest. I don't matter. The chair under my bottom doesn't matter, nor does the floor beneath my feet. These little crystal structures surely do not matter... and yet they do. The human body has about seven tablespoons of salt inside of it. About one percent of the concrete beneath this building is made up of salt. 85% of the earth's water is salt water. And amongst the trillions of stars, the potential billions of galaxies... surely there is more salt out there than this. So, in a way, it could all be turned around. Each of these little crystals is made up of molecules of something utterly necessary to life. And perhaps... that makes everything matter.

The sound of a soft sigh reaches my ears and immediately, I blink, looking up. My newly lubricated optics stare up at the man who's come to interrupt my musings. Hair like amber frames his face, strands of it whisping about his starkly profiled features. Slightly sunken cheeks, a strong manly jaw line, the firm brow giving the notion of someone completely in control of their every emotion, and eyes that betray most of what can be gleaned by the rest as nothing but a false impression. His eyes hold secrets so dark that even my own pale in comparison. Years of weariness lie in those depths, and yet, hidden behind the frames of his glasses... I can see the tenderness there, the heartache and the love he still manages to hold even through the worst of experiences.

I spend far too long staring at him, too long looking into the depths of those chocolate brown eyes and he finally looks down at the table rather than at me. "May I?" he asks quietly, almost seeming afraid of the answer.

My breath ghosts out softly a slight inclination of my head being the answer. Anyone else would have broken this spell I've put myself under, shattered the trance of my musings. But not him... never him. He knows and understands, doing his best to never truly interrupt, even when he does.

When he sits down at the table across from me, I can feel his energy mixing with my own. He feels calm and serene at first. But under that initial wave is what always catches me off guard. There's pain in him like I've never felt, a sweeping agony that's there one second and then gone the next, as if he holds a rotating rift in his personal bubble. My eyes fall on his long, slim fingers as he knots them together on top of the table, obscuring some of the scattered salt across the ebony table top. He doesn't seem to notice, his thoughts obviously somewhere else entirely.

Without hesitation, I push my cup of hot tea toward him, offering him some of the Earl Grey that I've grown so fond of. His fingers move then, wrapping around the warmth of the ceramic and carefully raising the container to his lips. A few sips and then he places it down on the table again, pushing it back toward me.

My fingers wrap around the cup before he ever lets it go, our digits brushing softly over one another. The air in the room shifts and I can smell his cologne; always the faintest of scents, never strong and by no means overpowering. He's so careful and tedious to make certain he can mask the scent of only having a bus to shower in while at the same time smelling like the same old wonderful Die I've always known. I take in the offered fragrance, a tiny smile creeping over my lips. He doesn't smell like Die today... today... his aroma is more like my own and that is the reason for my smile.

His chair creeks and my eyes come up to meet his over the rim of my cup. His right hand is resting against his cheek, his head leaning to the side as he regards me with the air of someone trying to find the deep meaning of the universe. Ironic, given what I was doing only minutes before. Though why he is seeking the answers from my being, I cannot comprehend. My mug makes a dull thunk on the tabletop as I set it down and then I'm leaning over the table, arms bracing my small body as I come within an inch of his face and only rest there, eyes unblinking, face a mask of neutrality.

Die doesn't move, not even a flinch. It's as if he had been expecting me to behave in such a manner. Perhaps my eyes gave me away and maybe he's better at reading me than I thought. I taunt him with the depths of my feelings, allowing the mask to slip, to reveal everything to him in the dark pits of my soul. From the way the color of his chocolate eyes darkens, I can tell he knows, that he sees and understands. Last night meant more to me than I had let on... truly, more to him than even I can show him like this. But I won't push, I won't ask for what he cannot or does not want to give to me. Slowly I sink back down into my chair.

Even when the waitress comes by and takes our orders, Die doesn't allow the spell to be broken. His smooth voice orders an omelet, whites only, vegetables rather than meats or cheeses and a side of rye toast. Almost an afterthought, he orders another mug of Earl Grey. My voice floats out rather quietly for me, asking for the same, determined to keep things brief, to retain the feeling surging around us. The woman removes herself from our bubble and before I know it, Die's hand is over my own, squeezing briefly and then releasing, retracting as if he'd never touched me at all.

It's something I noticed about him years ago: a craving for attention that can only be satisfied by the actual physicality of another human being. This time the smile that flirts with my lips is larger, harder to suppress. He notices; an answering smile of his own bubbling to the surface. Slowly, I lean forward again, almost taunting him to do with me as he wishes.

Die's eyes darken even more, the color of molten fudge. My tongue drifts over my plump lower lip, inviting what I know he wants, forcing his gaze down, tugging his focus right to where I desire it to be. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing as he watches the way my pink muscle transverses the slightly chapped flesh. A reminder... of what that tongue did to him last night... of what it could very well do to him again.

His eyes finally leave me, his gaze traveling fast over the entire cafe. Alone... safe. He judges it for one more moment before his chair scrapes over the floor, the sound loud and jarring, just like the abrupt change in his energy. When he grabs a fistful of my hair, I only tilt my head back and smirk up at him as his lips collide with my own. The kiss is harsh, demanding; filled with everything it wasn't last night. A surge of arousal plunges through my body and he draws away, knowing his job is complete. His tongue - a deeper red than my own - flicks over his bottom lip, disappearing inside the cavern of his mouth like a snake into a hole. His own reminder of what he did to me last night.

The smile on his face now is anything but light. It's heavy... dark... filled with suggestions and the knowledge that he'll get his way. He turns on his heel and makes his way, deceptively calmly across the cafe, disappearing down the hallway with the word _Toilettes_ scrawled over the entryway.

I watch him go, my heart beating rapidly in my chest. Just one kiss and he's got me going like no one before him ever could. For the smallest moment, I chastise myself. Why did I wait so long? Why did I deny the natural pull that's always been between us? And I answer my own questions with the single blink of my eyelids. I waited so long because I was afraid. I denied the pull because I told myself I was imagining it, that he'd never feel the same. But I was wrong... so very, very wrong.

The waitress comes to put the cup of tea on the table just as I'm standing up. She eyes me oddly and I only give her a shit-eating grin before I too head for the restrooms. Not a single word ever slips past my lips and not a single one needs to. I can feel her wide-eyed look on my back even as the chains on my jeans slap against my thigh, the gentle sound filling the hallway as I stride into it, hands in my pockets.

The moment I push the bathroom door open, I'm assaulted. Die's hands pull me in, the door slamming behind me and then his lean form pressing me against the cool wood. He presses close, forcing one thigh between my own. There's not a single second of time wasted before his mouth is crushed against my own, tongue roughly shoving into my mouth to taste me. His hands mold themselves to my ass, cupping and treasuring. My moans manage to escape our joined mouths, filling the small bathroom with an air of passion.

Die's long fingers curl under my upper thighs, finding purchase there just before he lifts me, pulling my legs up on either side of his waist. Another second and then his hips are bucking against my own, his movements urgent. His cock strains hard against the fabric of his jeans, rubbing against my own clothed erection in a heavenly manner. My head hits the wood behind me as I pull back from the kiss to moan out my approval of this new position. I know he won't fuck me here. He wants to... but he won't. I did him a number last night and now he craves to take it back out of my hide. But not here... not now. He'll wait. I can tell in the way he isn't even reaching for my pants to open them. He just hungers after my body and he'll take from me what he can get away with right now.

His mouth moves down my jaw and then over my collarbone to my shoulder where he licks before sinking his teeth down hard enough for me to yelp. But it's not unwanted... quite the opposite, in fact. We learned so much about one another even from just last night, it amazes me. My fingers cling to his biceps, holding on as if they could support the world... or at least my world. Die shifts my weight fully to his lower half, his knee banging into the door as he changes his stance. A moment passes in which he simply stares at me, his eyes dark and needy, filled to bursting with complete and total lust.

When he growls out my name, I moan throatily in response, remembering how much he enjoyed my noises of passion last night. My eyelids flutter close as he tilts his hips against me, brushing our clothed bodies over one another. He pulls a gasp from me, making me open my eyes and look at him. He's smirking as he jerks his hips hard, our chains clinking against the wood of the door with each movement. I look down between us and his cock is so hard, straining the seam of his jeans to the limit. I don't need to see his length to remember how it looked, how it tasted, how it felt in my hand and my mouth. My eyes close again and one of my hands moves to tangle in his hair, pulling his mouth close, trying to encourage more of what I know he knows I liked.

He obliges, mouth coming to cover my Adam's apple, sucking and then flicking his tongue over it, his hips never stopping their movement. My mind supplies me with images: his perfectly sized cock moving into the velvet of my mouth - in... out... in... out. I moan louder than I intend to, my own hips straining forward, body shivering. My fingers curl harder in his hair as I remember how he felt in my hand, his hot length pulsing there, his arousal obvious in the way his body eagerly thrust against my hand. I let loose another sound of pleasure as he grinds harder against me, hips insistent, his rhythm quick, just like his playing always is.

My eyelids lift and I watch him, knowing he's close. The look on his face is unmistakable, the purest lust radiantly dusted over his cheeks, his eyes half-lidded, lips parted just enough to allow his frantic breath through. His hair floats around him like an angel and I realize we're right under a vent, a smirk flitting over my mouth just before he rubs me just the right way and the smirk turns to a slight 'o' of pleasure. He all but crushes me to his body as he lets out the most beautiful sound I've ever heard, hips jerking erratically a few times before he stills completely. He's cum... I know he has. That sound could have been nothing else.

I whimper just the smallest amount when he settles me back on my own two feet, giving him the most pleading of looks. He presses one finger to my lips as he drops to his knees, where he sits smirking up at me. His fingers move down my body, teasing across my nipples under my shirt and then drifting down to my zipper, tugging it down, not bothering with anything else. He pulls me from my pants, hand making a fist around my straining cock. I think for a moment he's going to jerk me off, but in the next moment, sweet bliss surrounds me, the warm cavern of his mouth engulfing the vast majority of what I have to offer him.

Both of his hands move to my hips, thumbs moving over the dips he finds there, smoothing against my skin as if he has no fingers at all and only flower petals in their place. I offer him a low moan of appreciation before he starts to bob his head, taking long, deep sucks on me. He's not messing around, just aiming straight for the fastest way to pull me off. I groan happily, my hands both going into his hair, holding those amber strands tightly, though I'm in no way limiting or dictating his movements. No... Die doesn't need to be dictated. He knows precisely what to do to me and when to do it.

My body starts to clench, hips arching toward him and his luscious mouth. He moans and I respond with a more powerful one of my own. I let out a deep moan as I finally loose it, the first spurt of my spunk hitting his tongue before he pulls his mouth away, swallowing as he lets me empty myself over his entire face. I watch as the translucent strands fall over his beautiful features, some over his nose, a bit on his cheek, and more dribbled across his lips as I finish. As he stares up at me, I realize... I've never found anyone so incredibly sexy in my entire life as he is in this moment, in such a lewd position.

His red tongue darts out to clean his lips and then to lap once more at the head of my dick, cleaning me as well. I shiver and gently stroke the hair I'd been pulling less than a minute ago; thanking him without the words I can't quite gasp out just yet. He smiles up at me and then rises to his feet, pecking me on the lips before turning away. He moves to the sinks, quickly washing his hands and face off before I hear him unzipping his pants. I chuckle. Such a cleanly boy.

I push away from the door, finally having caught my breath. "Join me after," I murmur before opening the door and exiting the washroom. Silently, I pad down the short hallway and back into the little cafe, weaving my way between the tables to where I'd been sitting before. Calmly, I take my chair and cross one leg over the other, starting to pick up my mug.

The waitress comes by, putting a fresh one on the table, doing the same to Die's and taking the two up from the table. There was a blush dusted across her cheeks and nose that let me know she knew full well what had just transpired in the bathroom. I smile one of my rare smiles at her, thanking her for the new tea. She nods and quietly informs me our meals will be out shortly, she had the cook wait so they wouldn't be cold. With that she rushes off and I can't help but laugh softly to myself.

A few minutes pass and then Die emerges from that little hall, coming to sit across from me again. Our meals arrive shortly after that and without a single word to one another, we dig in. The air is calm, like a gentle breeze through a park in mid-summer. And for the first time in many years, my entire being is completely at rest. The smile that comes to my lips is full and genuine and the one he gives me back shines like the brightest star in the sky.

**The End**  



End file.
